


Drafted

by BabyWithWings



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Asshole Tallests, Falling In Love, Fighting, Friendship/Love, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Outer Space, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Understanding, War, World War III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyWithWings/pseuds/BabyWithWings
Summary: It was really only a matter of time until everyone saw how right Dib really was. What he didn't anticipate was just how late they would be.~~AU in which Dib and Zim get drafted into an intergalactic war with the Irkens.





	1. Chapter 1

It was really only a matter of time until everyone saw how right Dib really was. What he didn't anticipate was just how late they would be.

But that's not where it all started.

No, it started with a transmission.

 

\--

 

Zim was staring up at the computer monitor, attempting to process the information his Tallests had given him. He had come home from that horrific place the Humans call Skool, and there had been a transmission the two had left him. With shaky claws, Zim pressed the replay button once more, as he had done twice before.

Purple was swallowing down laughter with tears in his eyes.

 _"You are the single most annyoning, the most untrustworthy, the most un-invader Irken to have ever bumbled out of the training facility!"_ Red's harsh words made Zim's antennae fall. _"You are a waste of space, and your mission has done nothing but waste our resources! Doom II finished years ago! You're old news, Zim. You just can't seem to die. So, may as well do the one thing that you couldn't. Take over that pathetic piece of dirt and turn their species into slaves. No more games. You are hereby disowned."_

The transmission cut out as Purple fell to the ground with laughter, clutching his abdomen.

Zim fell to the floor.

He really was a defect.

He wasn't better than any of the other stupid filth monkeys on this planet.

He curled up, attempting to smother the bitter feeling pooling in his stomach, skin burning as tears fell delicately from his orbs.

 

Dib couldn't waste any time. He had been watching the tapes, just as he had always been, when he saw the transmition. He burned the last fifteen minutes onto a hard drive and sent the file to the Director of the CIA. It was only moments before they showed up at his door and collected everything he knew about Zim, then putting it into a box. He was proud of himself when he was taken with them, not dragged or gripped, but treated with respect.

"You did the right thing sending it to us, son," A man said. "Can you decode these letters?" The man showed him a photo of the Irken language. With many, many months of tracking Zim, picking up the language was easy.

"Yes," He said confidently. The man nodded and he got into the car, looking out the window as they went down a very familiar road. One he had gone down many times before. They were going to Zim's base, for what could be the last time. They parked outside, and they didn't have to order Zim to come out. He simply staggered out, disguise be damned, with GIR at his side. Gun pointed at Zim's head, and where his heart would be, and Dib felt his heart twinge a little. He didn't even stop to consider what Zim might be going through. He had gone through it himself, in a sense. Being completely dishonored and disconnected from his own species was an experience he had delt with ever since Zim set foot on this planet. The small alien looked tired and desperate, comepletely shattered, and, for lack of a better word, vulnerable. Of course, he was cursed with a good conscious. He didn't think it was possible, but he took pity on the Irken. Dib stepped out of the vehicle and ran out in front of the men.

"Wait!" He cried.

"Get out of the way, kid," An older man grunted.

"Zim could be useful," He tried. "He knows everything about Irken fighting tactics. It's what their bred to do." The people mumbled amongst themselves, but ultimitely, the decision had been made. Semi-automatics cocked and adjusted as someone grabed Dib and dragged him away, kicking and screaming. Zim looked to the teen with what Dib guessed was a weak smile, which looked more like a bracing grimace. Dib's eyes screwed shut, and he felt wetness on his cheeks. What the hell?! Why was he crying over him?! Pity, he could understand, but this was too much. This was ridiculous.

"At ease," A smooth voice said. Disgruntled and disappointed groans and sighs came from the men, and Dib's eyes peeked open to see a tall hispanic woman, dressed nicely. "Membrane calls the shots. I've got orders from above." A few chuckles came from the crowd.

"Dib s'fine, thanks..." Dib said, standing up and shrugging off the man's hands. "Zim comes with me. He's my responsibility, and trust me when I can say that I'm the only person who can handle him... his SIR unit comes with." GIR was nice to him when he was a child. Always did what he asked him to do, even if he did have some... odd tendencies.

Zim didn't pass up this moment of kindness. He found himself in a space where he did was anyone asked of him, as he was unsure of what to do on his own except curl up and let decomposition do what it does best. He walked on shakey legs toward Dib. It felt almost disgusting, finiding a safe haven in a person he once considered the enemy. He supposed that title now belonged to his Tallests. But when he was under those judgemental eyes of CIA agents without his disguise on, he found it was a strange shade of comforting to hear Dib tell them that he was protected. He didn't thing he still mattered to anyone, and the fundamental hatred that grew into tolerance flowed in abundance between them both, and it only thing truly keeping him grounded in this situation. GIR walked after him at his feet, asking all sorts of crazy questions, and a sharp shard of pain stabbed him in the throat when he asked himself; _Was this what the Tallests felt when he asked them things?_ Zim gagged slightly, tears at stinging his fuschia orbs.

Oh, God.

Watching Zim stagger toward him may have been the most painful thing Dib had ever watched. As he drew nearer, the helplessness on the Irken's features grew ever evident, and Dib found himself wanting to reach out and hold him. Zim's antennae were stubbornly pressed to his head, shamefully. It reminded Dib of a dog with its tail between its legs. GIR was asking plently of questions, and Dib realized this what he must be like if he didn't have to breathe, always spouting off whatever questions came to his mind, saying things before he carefully thought about them, even if he didn't mean them, even if they hurt people. Zim seemed to have his own revelation, as he looked even more crestfallen. Dib had seen this alien beat the shit out of people, had seen Zim beat the shit out of him. He had seen Zim smug and proud and undeniably _strong_ _-_ now he was swaying on his feet. He looked so tired, something that Dib didn't think he could ever achieve, with his seemingly endless supply of hype. Dib's heart lurched when Zim stopped before him, silently beseeching him for a command. It made Dib sick.

The men began to put their guns away, and Dib opened the car door for Zim, who climbed in, GIR trailing after him. Dib got in, closing the door and buckling up. No one got into the car cabin with them, Dib assumed this was because they were annoying. He had no problem with that. In their current situation, he was sure that Zim was glad for some quiet, under his protection. But Dib still wanted to reach out and hug the tiny being. He wanted to cry with him, to allow them both such a safety thast they could cry without judgement. The car pulled forward, and GIR finally quieted down. Dib looked over to see that Zim had manually put him into sleep mode.

"Why?"

Zim's voice was hoarse, with a cold, defensive edge. It almost made Dib flinch.

"Because you're the only person who knows that I'm not insane." Zim gave a bitter smile, showing off his sharp teeth. Those teeth used to scare the shit out of Dib. He had plently of scars from them when they tore through his skin and ripped them apart, and he just knew that his blood was a familiar taste on Zim's unusually long tongue.

"Person. After all this time, you still hold me to that regard?" Zim's eyes locked onto Dib's golden irises.

"What else would you be?"

The question hung in the air for some time as Zim struggled to find an answer that didn't contain the word 'Cockroach'.

"A waste of potential and resources. A dangerous, carnivorous _thing._ "

Dib's heart stung at that, and his eyebrows furrowed as his cheeks went wet again. Really?!

"Shut up, Zim. You aren't yourself right now. I know you, you aren't like this. You are a confident solider."

"I'm no longer an invader, Dib."

"Who said you even had to be Irken to be a solider?"

It took a moment for Zim to really take in those words. Was Dib asking him to join the human race?

Was he willing to say yes?

Was he actually that desperate for a home?


	2. Chapter 2

Zim didn't ever end up answering that question. Responding to it would hold him accountable for something he wasn't sure he could take the responsibility of. It was very clear to him that the Irkens didn't want him anymore, and it was also very clear that Dib was inviting him to become a Human, but saying yes meant total disconnection, and saying no meant total execution. So he just stayed quiet. Dib could understand that.

It didn't occur to Dib that he wouldn't be saying goodbye to his family until the car they were in had left town. He panicked momentarily, as all children do when they are separated from their parents, but the moment passed when the sad reality was that his family wouldn't come looking for him. The only time his family was ever genuinely concerned for him was when he had gained all that weight and never came out of his room that summer when he was watching Zim. And that was only because he kept telling them how concerned _he_ was for his own well-being. He sunk down into his chair. Lovely.

The car stopped before a large building. Troops were running tracks, and he could hear faint gunshots. Dib saw Zim look up, obviously confused at the noise. Of course, the Irkens had much different weapons that the humans. Dib didn't really like guns. It was something he saw as never having evolved from the beginning of its invention. Guns were still loud, bullets could still miss their intended target. It was an upgraded version of the original means of defense - throwing the sharpest and the hardest rock you could find at someone you didn't like. Children were doing this. Surely the army could provide something a little more effective, especially when they were dealing with such a threat as the Irkens.

The doors opened and Dib got out, trying to hold some form of confidence. He had to tell himself he belonged to be there, as it was a place he wanted to go ever since he found out what Zim was. He just thought they would be there for different reasons. To be completely honest, Dib was ashamed of those words. Telling Zim he wanted to dissect him like he was some middle school science project seemed incredibly barbaric now. Of course, he still held that basic protectiveness over his home when it came to Zim and his people, but there were other ways of dealing with his antics. 

GIR shook awake and followed Zim out as they walked toward the building.

"Master, what's that big thing? Is it a taco place?! TACOS?!" He cried out, gripping Zim's uniform and tugging.

"Stop that, GIR, we're guests," He chided the small robot. A soldier with a name tag that read 'Park' tsked and rolled his eyes.

"More like annoyances." Zim didn't say anything, frowning softly. He knew he wouldn't be accepted, taking who he was into account, but he had seen the Humans be kind to the point of stupidity. Hearing such snide remarks reminded him of his own species greatly, where emotion didn't matter and anything could be said without the fear of being hurt (so long as it didn't damage anyone's credibility as an invader). Things were so different here. The people are so caught up in their thoughts and emotions that they would rather sacrifice their word and the reputation behind it than saying something against someone they loved.

Love.

That in itself was another thing that Zim failed to understand for a long time - and even now he had a difficult time truly understanding what it means. He had done so much research in attempts to comprehend the motive behind most things. He knew that love affected people differently, and tend to have wild and unpredictable ways of showing itself. Love has driven people to do this thing called 'marriage', where people gather to watch the two perform a love ceremony and then eat and dance like some weird religious ritual. But love has also been the motivating factor behind kidnappings, murders, and rape. Horrific things over emotional hallucinations. Love has been described as angry and passionate, gentle and slow, sometimes it comes over them like a waterfall, or it feels like being in a collision with an automobile. He would never completely understand the feeling that conflicts with itself.

As they walked in, Dib looked up to the high ceiling. There was a second story, with cameras attached to the ceiling and men looking down at them - no, they were all looking down at Zim. His eyes fell upon the Irken, who looked smaller than usual. Dib was so used to seeing him act tall and strong that seeing him this way was almost like seeing a completely different being. Zim didn't deserve to be treated this way, even if he was an alien. He wasn't lesser because he didn't look like them, he was just different. It was idiotic and small minded to think that would be true.

"When you walk in," A man warned. "Address the Director as Director instead of Ma'am or Sir. The Director is non-binary."

The man paused to see their reactions, which was very slim. Dib gave a curt nod, whereas Zim's was meek.

They were led into what looked like a meeting room, where there stood two CIA agents and the Director.

"Mister Membrane," The Director said, walking over to shake Dib's hand. "I'm CIA Director Greenwell."

"It's Membrana," Dib said, shaking the Director's hand. The Director was tall and black, their hair tied back into a tight bun. They looked like the kind of person who was kind but wouldn't have a problem with smothering them in their sleep. "It's a pleasure, Director." Greenwell released his hand and dragged their brown eyes over to Zim.

"And you must be Zim. We've been tracking you for some time." Zim's eyes widened. What?! "Don't be shocked. You aren't the only alien threat we have encountered."

Dib damn well nearly shouted. He had all this evidence, and had tried to get Zim taken before all this, just to be dragged here when they were on the brink of a full-scale intergalactic _war_ and _now_ he's told that aliens do, in fact, exist. Could they not have said that when he was put into a mental institution by his classmates _twice_?! What fucking bullshit!... Even if he could understand that he was very young when it started. Any kid of a rich man could declare anything out of jealousy and anger. But this time Dib had been right! They didn't even bother to tell him they had looked into it! He shoved the emotion down reluctantly.

"Are you going to kill me?" Zim asked, quietly. He knew that was what his species would do. It was the right thing to do.

"Should we?" The Director asked. Fushia met brown and Zim was suddenly filled with something he didn't know how to process. Freedom? Happiness? No... He didn't know. It made him almost angry.The Director gave a small smile. "I didn't think so. But we are going to need your help. Can you do that?"

And still, Zim hesitated.

This was it. This was the decision that determined his fate. Is he going to betray his own species for the people he was attempting to kill? The people who _knew_ that he was trying to kill them, and still didn't seem the least bit frightened or intimidated? He honestly didn't know. Irken nature was all that he knew, take that away, and he was nothing, and belonged to no one, with no meaning behind his name except for failure. But being Irken meant he was strong, that he was feared. Isn't that what he wanted? To be feared? To be powerful? But Dib saved him when Tak would have outed him months back. The Director was patient with Zim's answer, but The Tallests would have killed him if he had shown even the slightest bit of tentativeness. Maybe being feared isn't where he was needed most. Zim was finally beginning to understand the power in being merciful.

"Yes, Director. I can do that."


	3. Chapter 3

After some minor discussion, Dib and Zim were led to the barracks. The space was open with bunk beds lining the walls. Soldiers hung around, talking amongst themselves, and paying little mind to Zim. This was a major change compared to the men in the front of the building. This made Dib think that they were either being tested against criticism, or those soldiers were newer than the ones in here. The Director gently cleared their throat, and everyone was suddenly at attention, standing by their beds with their hands behind their backs, chins up, perfect posture, and dead silent. Dib seriously wondered what this person was like when they weren't just guests. No one could be this kind and intimidate people this much.

"These are your new recruits," They said. "Dibble Membrana, and Zim, an Irken who has joined our side. If I hear of any hazing, I will have you run laps with Emericks. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Director Greenwell," They all said in unison. The Director gave a curt nod and the soldiers eased. They turned to the two, and gave a gentle smile.

"Your beds are right there," Greenwell instructed, pointing to an unoccupied bunk bed. There was a duffel bag on the top, and just as Dib opened his mouth to ask about it, The Director spoke up again. "We packed you a bag of essentials from your home." Dib gave a soft nod. Zim saw the small portable charging port for GIR next to the wall. "Dinner is in two hours, if you have any questions or concerns, come straight to me. You can leave the base at any time you like, as you two are labeled as special intel, but you must be here for your training and classes, and you have to wear your badges to get back in." She handed them two badges on lanyards, with their school pictures on them. Dib winced a little. He looked like a dork. Zim, however, was in a completely different mindset. He was surprised at the Director's kindness, and though he didn't like the idea of having to wear something that branded him, he was glad to be somewhat accepted. He could tell that the Director wasn't trying to start anything in bad blood - quite the opposite. They were trying to establish a positive relationship with an alien race.

"Thank you," He told the authoritative human. They smiled.

"No problem. I'll let you two get settled in." The Director and their guard walked out, and the trio made their way to the bunk bed they had been directed to. Even when the Director left, the soldiers still left the two alone, and Dib began to wonder if they were still being watched. If this was all one big trick. Even though he had been given the clearance to leave when he liked, he didn't know if he liked the title 'special intel'. This seemed all too good to be true, and after Zim's hallucination machine, he didn't quite trust anything that worked in his favor. Maybe he was being tested on how he would respond to pressure, maybe this was something straight out of Kingsman - were they going to drown them?! But Zim burned in water-

Woah.

That was too much.

The first worry that comes to his mind when it came to a test about water was _Zim's_ safety before his own? Since fucking when?!

_Since you saved him from getting shot._

But... he didn't save him. That woman did.

_You heard her. It was ultimately your decision._

Dib shoved the thought away. If it was a test, he would pass it, just like he always did. If it wasn't... well. He'd figure it out.

Zim climbed into the bottom bunk, preferring it to the top. If he was on top, it would be harder to make a hasty escape, should he need to. Also, he would be closer to GIR. Even though his SIR Unit was broken, he would still depend on him in times of dire need... He supposed that could extend to DIb now, too. The Dib was still an evading and unpredictable creature. Sometimes he would passionately argue and fight with him, sometimes he was too tired or too angry to care. Why were humans so hard to understand? They can't just do something all the time and then... stop. Humans were categorized as creatures of habit. They can't be creatures of habit if they don't have habits. Dib did deserve to be happy, even if he hated to admit it. Zim wouldn't waste his time on a mission some back-stabbing lazy assholes gave him in attempts to pus him away, so hating Dib was also a waste. But he didn't know if befriending him wasn't. He assumed that since they would be spending a tremendous amount of time together for what could be years, he didn't really have a choice. But patching up those deep trenches between them would be incredibly difficult... he didn't know if he had it in him.

Dib climbed up the ladder to his bed and sat down, opening the duffel bag. There lay a few shirts, pants, socks, underwear, toothbrush and glasses container, pretty much what he expected... and a letter. He quirked an eyebrow and pulled it out. On the envelope was a word, written in Gaz's handwriting.

_Dib-Dab_

It was what she used to call them when they were younger - when they were friends. When Gaz wasn't scary, when she had black hair like his, wore dresses and enjoyed spending time with him. She had been so mean that Dib was beginning to think that maybe she was too young to remember it all. Of course, she did. Gaz was a genius. How could he forget that? Dib set the thoughts aside and opened the envelope delicately, half-expecting a snake to pop out. But no, it was a piece of paper with rushed handwriting.

_I'm not writing to apologize for anything I have done, all of it was justified, and all of it you deserved._

Yeah. That was Gaz.

_I'm writing to tell you something I haven't told you in a very long time. I love you, and I am going to miss you. I know it didn't seem like it, but I needed you in my life. Especially when Dad got that contract and he got all famous, and it was mostly just you, me, and some video of Dad telling us he loved us. You even fixed it when it shorted out and kept saying it over and over. I still haven't forgiven him for that, and I know you haven't. Even then we could tell that he didn't mean it._

_They tell me that you can leave the base whenever you'd like and that I can visit whenever I'd like. But I think we both know that me coming seems a little bad for my reputation. I'm sorry, but I do hope to see you. There is some stuff back home that Dad was telling me that he hadn't gotten to tell you yet. You've only been gone two minutes and he's freaking out about how his cover was blown, how he will never be successful without you. I think he's trying to get you out of that place. Do us both a favor and stay there. I'll record his reaction if you tell him no. I think it's about time someone told him that he didn't deserve their time. He'll lose it, but I'm tired of raising our father._

_I'll get your stuff back for you. It looks weird without all your crap over the walls and on the floor. I'll even set up the cameras again. The computer at Zim's house plays a mean game of Vampire Pig, so I'd like to see if I can beat it's 'superior Irken technology', just like you did with Zim... By the way, if you decide to make up with him, it's not the end of the world. Zim may be an ignorant asshole with an ego that could challenge Dad's and win, but he's also helpless. Just like you. I think that you need to learn from each other. Trust me, just this once, okay? I know that I was mean, and though I don't really care, but I need you to just do me the favor of letting yourself be happy._

_Just because it's good doesn't mean it's false._

_-Gaz_

_P.S.; I'm still way better than you. Just because you're off fighting some war doesn't mean jack shit._

Dib let out a soft laugh, wiping at the tears that had fallen from his eyes. Someone cared. He mattered to someone.

Maybe Gaz was right.

Maybe he just had to let himself be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t take long for dinner to be ready, after that moment. Dib found himself in the mess hall with a bunch of messy, starving soldiers who stuffed flavorless sludge down their throats like it was their mother’s signature dish. Zim didn’t eat, as this was to be expected, but Dib ate it greedily. Zim made a face at this - the Dib was a scrawny little thing, and yet it seemed he had the appetite of the Tallests combined, and he expected the human to have a better palette than whatever -  _ Zim squinted his fuschia orbs to read the menu sign hung high above the buffet table  _  - ‘Stu Surprise’ was.

“How can you eat that?” Zim asked the boy, chin held high and face screwed in an expression of snobbish disgust. Dib looked up, eyes more innocent than Zim had ever seen before. He was suddenly given the vague memory of Dib eating the cafeteria food without complaint, and he was about to bring this up when the raven-haired teen spoke up.

“Because it’s polite to eat what is given to you, even if you don’t necessarily like it. It’s human courtesy. We care more about the effort than the outcome.” Zim scoffed.

“Irkens don’t busy their minds with such lies. If it is good, we don’t say anything, if it is bad, we tell them to improve upon their weak culinary skill. It does not matter the effort one puts in - the outcome is the goal that you stride toward.” Dib listened to this carefully. He supposed Zim had a point, there.

“Well,” Dib started carefully, dangerous memories bubbling to the surface of his memory. He shoved them aside. “It’s the only food available to me. We humans can’t stuff ourselves full of sugar and salt and expect to be in perfect shape.”

“Why not?”

The night went on as Dib explained basic human biology to Zim, who seemed more and more confused (and just as equally disgusted) by the load of information. One by one the soldiers left, and Dib finished up his second portion of stu before bringing himself to the bathrooms. He brushed his teeth, showered, and changed into pajamas, then walked into the moonlit room where many of the military men were asleep. Zim was already in his charging pod, with GIR in a smaller pod at his side. 

A shiver tingled through his body as he made his way to his top bunk. It seemed so much like the psych ward his classmates had sent him to,  _ twice _ . He remembers it vividly. The first time he went, he was kicking and screaming and squirming in his straight jacket on the floor of the padded van. He was sedated the second he stepped onto the compound. The first person he met there was Doctor Monroe - an older woman with long brunette hair and wrinkles around her eyes and frown lines at the corners of her mouth, which seemed to be unwaveringly straight. She had the straightjacket removed, and he was asked all sorts of questions. 

_ “Do you know why you’re here, Dib?” She asked calmly. There was an authoritative edge in her voice - one he was sure that made her colleagues twitch in fear. _

_ “Because my classmates are ignorant jerks that like to pick on the different guy!” He said, harshly. He regretted the words as soon as they settled on his tongue. “...I’m sorry, Miss…” _

_ “It’s quite alright. You aren’t the only troubled adolescent sent here do to differences.” He looked up and saw an odd warmness in her eyes. He didn’t trust it. “I don’t think you are insane, Dib, I think you have exaggerated beliefs. I think that you don’t need to change, just to… dilute it.” _

It didn’t take him long to figure out that dilute meant inject him with all sorts of sedatives. Dilute, indeed she did - dilute his brain with a cocktail of chemicals until he submitted. Until his spirit was broken. 

_ “Break ‘em down, and re-build ‘em,” The janitor, Michael Brink, told him one night as he mopped the floors with murky looking water. “Yessiree, tha’s ‘xactly what they do.” _

Michael was the only person to ever treat him as a person. The only thing that kept him clinging to his sanity like a newborn monkey to its mother. That, and the poor excuse for a library that the asylum had.

_ “We have a rather… limited selection of reading material,” Doctor Monroe told him later on in that day when she hadn’t drugged him until he felt like he was drowning from the inside out. “It’s in the multipurpose room.” _

Dib had to choke down a scream. The multipurpose room - the MPR as the staff called it. He hadn’t thought of it in years. It was the most silent part of the asylum, despite its capability to be used for many purposes. It was deafening. It made him want to scream just to gain stimuli, but he knew that if he ever did that he would have been in there for a much longer time.

_ “Doctor Monroe’s a li-ar,” A young girl, about fifteen or so, whispered in his ear when the staff had departed from him for a moment to discuss theories on his mental state. He turned to look at her, and he took a double-take. She looked like a ghost, pale with icy eyes that looked more fearful than intimidating. Her light pink lips were chapped and had split from constant biting and tearing. Her hair was matted down and a deep red, but there seemed to be no color in her. She was skinny, and he said skinny, he didn’t mean the photoshopped models that he, embarrassingly, had in his bedroom in a magazine under his bed (he was a tween, after all). He meant next to skin and bones, no doubt malnourished and underfed. But what got to him the most was her dilated eyes. Her voice was hushed and rough, but high-pitched. “She’s gonna get you. She’s gonna get you like how she got me!” _

_ “Alexia!” A voice, sharp and firm cut in. “Leave Dib alone!” It was none other than Doctor Monroe herself. Monroe’s eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. She looked caught. And that is what pulled the final red flag for Dib. _

_ “I want- _

out.” His own voice startled Dib. He didn’t think he was speaking out loud, but after a quick, fearful survey of the room from his top bunk, no one seemed disturbed from their slumber. He heard a snort, a rustle as someone tossed over to their side, and a slight mumble. He let out a short breath. Good.

_ The girl glanced at Monroe, then back to Dib before backing away. He looked up at Monroe and asked the question that was forefront in his mind. _

_ “What do I need to do to get out of this place?” _

_ Monroe gave a smile. It was sick and threatening under a cold gaze. _

_ “Simple,” She said. “Get better.” _

_ “But I’m not sick!” _

_ This small outburst ignited a flurry of Doctors and Nurses to rush over, and with a curt nod from Monroe, syringes were being shoved into his body and people were holding him down. At some point, a hand clamped over his mouth, and they pinched his nose until he passed out from lack of air.  _

_ When Dib woke, he was strapped to his bed and seemed to be in a haze. _

_ “Mr. Membrane,” Monroe’s voice was distant as she spoke to him. “How are you feeling?” _

_ “....Drugged…” _

_ That was the wrong answer. He felt a vague pinch in his neck and he groaned, passing out again. _

_ This process repeated well into the next day, and Dib had finally gathered enough information to know what to say. _

_ “How are you feeling Mr. Membrane?” _

_ “Good, Doctor Monroe, and you?” _

_ A triumphant grin spread upon the wicked woman’s cheeks. _

_ “Well. Let’s get you out of those restraints.” _

 

Dib rubbed at his wrists. He looked down at them, having to remind himself that he wasn’t being held down anymore. He evened out his breathing and turned onto his side.

_ The second time he came to the asylum, Monroe seemed even more ecstatic than before. _

_ “Very rarely do we see a familiar face in these parts, Mr. Membrane.” _

_ “Hello again, Doctor Monroe.” He just walked in and took his… medicine… without complaint. _

_ He walked around with his very full I.V. pumping submission juice into his arm. He saw Alexia there at the table, legs crossed and eating an apple slice while reading one of five books he had read repeatedly - Catcher in the Rye. It was a morbid book, especially here of all places. That book has been the driving force behind multiple murders, and now they’ve put it in the hands of convicted lunatics. He sat across from her, and without looking up, she answered his question. _

_ “I think they put it here for us to get inspired,” She said, voice still light, and still rough, and still breathy. “Make us want to revolt against this shit-hole and then use that as an excuse to keep us here longer.” _

_ “Why are you in here, Alexia?” He asked. _

_ “Simple,” She said, glancing up at him. “I’m different, too. And call me Lex.” She showed the bracelet on her wrist. Upon closer observation, he noticed that it was more of a medical bracelet. It read in tiny print; _

_ Alexandra Jane Withers - 15 - AB+ _

_ Destructive Tendencies, Self-Harm Risk _

_ “Self-Harm risk?” He repeated, looking up at her. _

_ “I tried to get the restraints off. I accidentally scratched myself.” She paused to turn a page. “Gotta be careful what you do in here. Anything can be used against you. Of course, though, there are always the actual Loonies - asylums weren’t made for shits and giggles.” _

_ “I never understood why they rehabilitate people with other crazies when it’s proven that people replicate behavior.” _

_ “To make you look at where you are, dumbass,” She said, putting the book down to lean forward, putting her elbows on the table. He did the same. They were in kissing distance, he couldn’t help but notice. “They make you see where you are, and they taunt you with the idea that you might, someday, get out. They use psychology on you. They make you  _ want  _ to get better. And I dunno about you, Dib-Boy, but I find it much easier to do things when you want to.” _

_ “But isn’t that a good thing?” _

_ “You call that a good thing?” She nodded toward his I.V. “They’re pumping that shit straight into your blood to make you easy to behave and manipulate. One thing you got to learn about survival is that no one does jack shit out of the fuckin kindness of their hearts. Everyone has an ulterior motive. These asswipes? They wanna keep us here for experiments. You got the chemical waterboarding last time. This time I hear they might do electrotherapy. Take it from me, Dib-Boy, that shit hurts. Get all your ducks in a pile and get the hell outta dodge, you understand? Whatever it takes.” _

_ “But what about you?” Her smile was almost sorrow, but it was just too… wicked.  
_ _ “I’m one’a those loonies that’s gotta stay, Dib-Boy.” _

 

He had taken her advice. He got his ducks in a pile and got the hell outta dodge. But that didn’t stop his fears of going back. He never heard from her since, and he’s been afraid to go back in for a visitation. Dib wanted to see Lex, but that was almost two years ago. What if she was a ploy for him to return? What if she was gone and he was taken back into that place?

But things were different now.

Dib had military connections. They would go looking for him if he didn’t come back. Dib had Zim now. And though he would never say it out loud, Zim could kill them all. He looked down at the charging alien, and it was decided. Dib would convince Zim to come with him to the asylum to see her again.

_ I’m coming, Lex. I’ll help you get the hell outta dodge. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated! ❤


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XXXTENTACION's album '17' was a big inspiration with this chapter.  
> Also, warning, mention of suicide in this chapter.

Dib woke early the next morning to GIR poking at his face.

"Maryyyy~!" He sang. Dib grunted and put GIR on the bottom bunk. His memory was bombarded with memories of Lex. He needed to see her. But he didn't want to go alone - he couldn't.

"Zim?" He called out to him, getting down from the top bunk. Zim was tinkering with his charging pod.

"Yes, Dib-Human?" He asked, looking up. Dib dug this thumbnail into his forefinger.

"I need to ask you a favor." The small Irken's antennae quirked like eyebrows. "...You know how the classmates sent me to the asylum, twice?" Zim's exterior changed drastically. Oh yes, he knew. And once he learned what an asylum was, he couldn't explain the rage that filled him. Dib-thing was not insane! He was just... different. A lot like himself.

"Yes, I am aware." He was far more than aware.

"I met a girl there. Her name is Lex, she's a friend... I haven't seen her in two years since I got out. But stuff happened in there..." Dib looked away, digging his thumbnail in further and holding back his shaking. "And I can't go by myself. I need to see here, but I need you to be there with me." _I need you to protect me from Doctor Monroe._

Zim knew what Dib was asking, and why. There were plenty of stories he could access that told him of the horrors in asylums. The thought of it happening to the Dib, though would have been funny all those years ago, seem sickening to him now. He would be damned if anything happened to him like that again. As far as Zim was concerned, he owed a lot more than his life to the teenage human boy.

"Yes, I can do that. When do you wish to go?"

Dib let out a short breath of relief. He was gonna be okay.

"After class today?" He suggested. Zim nodded and got back to work, anger rising in his throat as Dib turned away. Something happened to him, and he would find out what. Dib didn't deserve the things he read about, even back then, when they were both hung up on being right rather than being alive. Zim was tired of fighting for being right. Just once, he would like to fight because... because it was the right thing to do. Not because he was ordered to. Not for manipulation. Not for power. Not for being right. He needed to find that difference, and he would, one way or another.

Dib walked to breakfast, distant memories falling back into place, and he began to wonder how he could have forgotten them. They became more prominent, more substantial, and it explained a lot about why he was who he was today. Being defensive. Be on guard. Never believe what anyone tells you. But it was so exhausting to not trust anything around you. It was so exhausting to be on guard, to be defensive. It was so exhausting to be afraid every waking moment of your life, and have no idea why. You're left wondering why you distrust your own family. But the answer was clear, now: once upon a time, his life depended on it.

 

After they ate breakfast (well, Dib picked at it in deep contemplation rather than ate, contrary to yesterday's rant), Zim and Dib found themselves in heavy training. The running across the campus in a group for an extended amount of time was easy, both of the boys could do that, but then they got into obstacle training, and it was suddenly like the two were incredibly behind. They lacked adrenaline, the thing that they both performed best with. The Director, who had been observing them, took them aside to ask the matter, to which Zim replied;

"There is nothing on the line!" He seemed irritated. "The one constant that has been there being we were both running for our lives! We are used to not having a safety net if we fail!"

Dib had read about that in a psychology book in the small library at the asylum. Humans, as a species, tend to do better when they are under pressure. People who display that behavior are often procrastinators. But Dib didn't like that word - he wasn't a procrastinator, he was an improviser.

The Director stared at them for a moment, then nodded a little.

"Alright." She turned to the soldiers who had finished. "Get your BB guns, and shoot at them."

Zim and Dib shared a panicked look as they unholstered their guns with excitement. In an instant, they ran toward the obstacle. They began to crawl under barbed wire, hearing the guns start to go off. Due to him being taller, Dib finished first, and he reached under to grab Zim's hand and pull him the rest of the way. Dib felt a BB hit his shoulder and he hissed, turning to run with Zim toward the next hurdle. Speaking of hurdles, he saw hurdling bars. Zim got his PAK legs out and began to step over them as Dib sprinted and jumped, heart pounding in his chest. They approached monkey bars at the end of the repetitive actions, and Dib used the momentum to throw himself forward and grasp onto the metal bars that once blistered his hands as a child. Zim had no trouble with this, his inhuman strength carrying him across with ease. He dropped down, and shortly after, Dib dropped down beside him. A sharp pinch on his cheek reminded Zim of the guns and they ran toward a tall rope ladder. Zim felt his squeedily spooch racing, the feeling of imminent danger intoxicating him. They climbed up it, Dib's arms shaking, threatening to give out under Dib's weight, but they made it to the other side and that's when Dib's golden eyes found the next obstacle. A steel wall.

"I'll boost you up there," Zim said. "Then I'll use the Pak legs to raise myself, you pull me to the other side." Dib looked at him, briefly surprised, though he shouldn't be. Zim was an experienced soldier, he had already gone through all sorts of training. Dib was sure this wasn't his first time climbing a fucking wall. He nodded and Zim crouched down before the wall, and Dib ran forward, jumping and Zim grabbing the sole of his left boot and shoving him up to the top of the wall, where he pulled himself up to straddle the wall. BBs flew past his head and chest, and his breath began to pick up as he looked down. Zim was lifting himself on his PAK legs and Dib reached down, grasping his wrist firmly and pulling him up. He swung his leg back around in unison with the small Irken and they hopped down into the mud, panting heavily and leaning against one another. He was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

The Director sauntered over and they got up, reluctantly. Dib had gotten his uniform quite muddy, and Zim was the same, though his PAK was so hot that it was bubbling the solution off.

"You were right, boys," They said with a grin. "You do perform better under pressure." Dib couldn't help but crack a smile. This place was a special kind of Hell - one that would make you feel both horrible and amazing at the same time. The Director dismissed them and the Dib went to the shower. Dib scrubbed off the mud, sighing softly into the steam, whereas Zim was using just soap to take it off, then scrubbed himself down with a towel.

Dib pulled on the outfit that was put on his bed when they arrived - a uniform they could wear outside the compounds. It wasn't anything fancy, not like the suits you see military men wear. It was a cotton white t-shirt and camo trousers that he tucked into his black boots. He brushed his scythe, brushed its teeth, shaved, and put on cologne. Zim made a face.

"Why do you wear that bottled pheromone, Dib-thing?" He asked.

"Because, to humans, it smells good." He had long since been annoyed by Zim's questions. It was easier to answer him rather than ignore him.

"Why would you need to smell good?"

"For Lex." He paused. Dib never thought he would say those words. He never thought he would get the courage to walk into that building once more. He never thought he would be Zim's friend, he never thought anyone would believe him, he never thought that he would blossom in the army. He never thought he would be here. It shocked him to think that he had cut out the toxicity in his life when everything was going to shit. That had to be symbolic of something.

Zim tensed a little. The infamous Lex. This... Lex-human seemed important to The Dib-thing. Perhaps he is attempting to court the female human worm baby. Maybe The Dib wished to mate The Lex. Maybe The Dib wished to claim The Lex. Zim forced himself to swallow down a jealous anger that rose throughout his body, wanting to scream that The Dib did not need to impress the female. Females had never been kind Dib. How is this female any different? If she believed she was meant to be in that place, how sane was this Lex-thing anyways? But this had nothing to do with what Zim wanted. This was about Dib, and what he needs to face that Evil Monroe-Monster once more with confidence. If the Dib did not dispose of the Evil Woman, Zim would, without regret. And so, Zim manufactured an understanding expression and a curt nod, despite the possessiveness rising in his blood that scared even the mighty Zim.

 

Zim and Dib left the compound a little over an hour ago, wearing their badges and uniforms, Zim wearing his disguise. It was weird to see him in it after everything that had happened over the past few days. Dib had forgotten that Zim had to hide his identity to the rest of the world. He didn't think that was fair; Zim wasn't trying to hurt anyone. Well, not anymore. But this thought left his mind when he found himself on a familiar street. He felt his heart quicken and his eyes widen. He had to remind himself that he wasn't a prisoner there anymore. He was going to free her, he was going to finally help her, and the weighing guilt on his heart would finally lift. They parked outside the building. It was a lot smaller than how he remembered it. It almost made him laugh. So much had happened there, the place seemed inescapable at the time. It was like a labyrinth. Infinite. But now... It was just a one-story white building with glass doors and 'Monroe Mental Health' painted in black on the side.

Dib almost threw up.

Monroe's red Sudan was parked right beside theirs.

He didn't know why he expected her to be gone, she was here all day, all night as if she lived there. Monroe never truly leaves. The saying 'out of sight, out of mind' is bullshit. More like 'out of sight, haunting your mind'. Then, he felt a three digited hand on his back.

"Dib? Are you alright?"

Zim.

Dib let out a breath. He was gonna be okay. No one could hurt him with Zim here with him. Turning to the soldier he had asked to come with them, Dib spoke.

"If we aren't out in twenty minutes and I haven't given an all-clear, then call for back up and get in there. Okay?" The soldier nodded. "Thank you-" Dib read his name tag. "-Lorenzo." He smiled and walked in with Zim.

Zim kept a hand on Dib's shoulder as they walked in. He couldn't detect anything but coldness, but Dib's face screwed up in an afraid disgust.

"Rubbing alcohol and antibiotics. I know it all too well." Dib's explanation made Zim's grip increase. He wanted to kill this Monroe-Monster!

Dib walked up to the barred visitation sign in. The man behind the bars was a man named Jack Emrikson. his cold grey eyes looked up to meet Dib's golden orbs, and a twisted smirk wrangled it's way onto his face.

"Mr. Membrane. Fancy meeting you here. How can we... help you?"

Dib wanted to reach between these bars and punch him in the throat.

"I'm here to see Alexandra Jane Withers. She would be seventeen, now."

A flash of recognition and mischievous intentions flashed in Jack's eyes.

"I'll check her file." Jack moved through the small room, opening a filing cabinet and looking through, bitten down nails flicking over each file, and taking his fucking time. He pulled out a violet file and opened it. "Oh, Mr. Membrane," Jack said, a chuckle in his voice. "Alexandra committed suicide three months after your final release."

Dib's breathing ceased.

His fingers tightened on the cold, white tile of the counter.

_No._


	6. Chapter 6

Dib tried to keep himself under control. He really did. He knew Jack's eyes were scanning his every move, amused and curious. He knew that one wrong move could end up with him being forced back into his nightmare. He tried to keep himself under control. If he had an outburst, Monroe could come running in excitement, and that empty smile and those wicked eyes and that horrifying face would light up in cheer. He would be pulled back into his room with a straight jacket, and Zim would be killed on the spot. Who knows how he would react to those medications? But Dib was positive Monroe would want to find out. He tired to keep himself under control. For the sake of his reputation. For the sake of Director Greenwell. For the sake of Zim. For the sake of  _Lex_. For the sake of his safety - _fuck_ \- he tried.

But Lex was dead.

Dib turned around and walked out.

The walls were closing in on him. He couldn't handle this. He shouldn't have come back. He should have never come back. Not without the whole fucking military. Not without a fucking nuke. He began to choke on his tears. Drowning, slowly.

_It wasn't fair._

He vaguely heard Zim's voice, but he needed to get out. His head was pounding, body screaming with soreness, the training session for earlier today taking its toll.

_It wasn't right._

He could hear Zim speaking with Emrikson, the sound of something dragging across the counter, but he couldnt bring himself to turn around. He didn't want to know what horrors might be behind him.

 _She couldn't have. She_ wouldn't  _have._

That's when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was cold, and he felt like shriveling up and dying the second he felt it touch him. It wasn't Zim. He turned, and he stopped breathing. His heart seemed like it wasn't beat any more - or maybe it was beating so fast he couldn't feel it. 

Monroe.

"Hello, Mr. Membrane. How are you feeling today?"

Dib never wanted to hear those words again. He wasn't Mr. Membrane, he was Dib! Dib Membrana! His father was out of the picture, his sister was the only one who cared, his best friend was an alien from a galaxy he may never live to see, he was a soldier who cared about what he was doing, he was well-respected by anyone who mattered (or, at least, tolerated)! Dib wasn't that little boy that was so paranoid, so afraid of the world that he called his own shadow a conspiracy! Not anymore! He would never be Monroe's puppet! He was better than that! Stronger than that! 

And so, Dib took one look at Monroe, with her eyes sparkling silver with misplaced passion, smile like a crack in a mug that hasn't gone all the way through on a face more wrinkly than he cared to remember, hair greying and hands gross with the joints in her fingers popping out after many years of cracking them, and he threw up.

"Oh, now that's just a  _shame_. Perhaps it's time you come back to me, Hm? Maybe it's time for a little reboot session."

He began to sob.

_Please, no._

"Yeah, I think it's time."

_No!_

"Let's go, Mr. Membrane."

Zim came rushing over, PAK legs unleashed and carrying him over with a box in his hands. The Doctors had tried to distract him from Dib (as if anything could).

"Let The Dib go!" He growled. "Or I will unleash the wrath of ZIM!"

"Destructive tendencies with underlying insecurity," Monroe said. "We always have room for more."

Dib hated that. Dib hated  _her_. Dib hated how cruel she was. How easy it was for her to just take a perfectly fine litle boy and turn him into a moltov of concocted chemcials and make him afraid of life, or take a perfectly fine young woman and make her crazy, then kill her. He hated how fucked up in the head Monroe really was, and yet she was the one making the claims that everyone else was crazy or wrong in some way just to gain what, exactly?! A higher kill to death ratio?! Research?!  _Fun?!_  He hated that he would never see Lex again. He hated that it was Monroe's fault. But most of all, he hated how  _right_  Monroe tended to be. Zim was destructive, and he was insecure. Lex did believe that she was meant to be there because she was crazy, even though she was perfeftly fine. Dib did believe in out-landish things, and he was paranoid. He hated it. He  _hated it._

"Empty nest syndrome paired with clinical depression and psychological episodes that lead to the risk of self and others," Zim replied, eyes narrowed. "Two can play at that game, Doctor."

Dib couldn't believe Zim said that. He couldn't believe how easy it was for him to insult the thing that scared him most. And so, despite everything that had just occurred, Dib grinned. It probably looked pained, but he grinned. Dib got out of Monroe's grip and stood beside Zim (maybe a little behind). 

"I'm not your patient, Monroe. And I never will be. Not  _ever_ again."

Monroe was fuming as the two left. They walked to the car and Lorenzo got into the drivers seat as they piled into the back. Dib was still comprehending the finality of the situation Lex had found herself in. It may take a while for him to really hit him, but Dib was proud. Proud of Zim. Proud of Lex. Proud to have known them. And proud of himself. He looked to Zim and leaned against him.

"Thank you," He murmured. 

Zim looked to him, nodding briefly as Dib rested hid head on his shoulder.

He missed the faint forest green on the forgeiners face as he slowly fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated :)

Dib couldn't tell you how he felt the following four days after the mental institution. Lorenzo, who had heard it from Zim, told him that no one would tell Dib that he was weak for throwing up or crying back there. A lot of the men that he was with on a regular basis had also gone to mental wards after their time in the wars, including Lorenzo himself. It was shit for them, and he couldn't imagine how hard it was for Dib, going in there at such an impressionable age. Although Dib appreciated the empathizing, hearing about that made him want to throw up again. He didn't want to think about mental institutes or PTSD or scary moments, or even their paranormal experiences in the wards. He was angry. He was upset. He was... numb. He hated being numb. But he couldn't help it, this time around. He just needed it to be over, and soon, because the longer Dib stayed numb, the less patience he was gonna have, and the very last thing he wanted to do it test the forgiveness of the Director in a place like this, where he could disappear and no one would notice, other than (maybe) Zim and (definitely) GIR.

On day one, Dib and Zim went to lunch together to Bloaty's Pizza after training, and Zim was acting just a tad more gentle with him than he was used it. It put him off, but Dib understood, though never pointed it out. He knew Zim was just trying to be supportive without seeming "weak".

On day two, Dib spent most of the day in bed after training. No particular reason. He didn't do anything, only stared up at the ceiling in thought, and no one bothered him. At first he thought it was because they couldn't tell he was there, but he came to realize that was very wrong. He felt the worried gazes on him. Part of him wanted to scream at them to look away, but his mind lacked the energy or motivation. He didn't go to lunch, as he wasn't forced to, but he knew he would make it a habit, so he forced down dinner. It was tasteless, and he couldn't tell if that was actually the food, or if he just didn't want it to taste like anything.

On day three, Dib trudged himself thorough training, and once he got into it, it was hard to get out. So he spent the whole day running laps, taking small breaks when directed. He could tell that the Director seemed upset, and confused. He couldn't blame them. He was confused and upset, too. looking back on it.

On day four, Zim was called into the Director's office. He was up there for a while, and Dib was doing his work a little half-assed without him. He was concerned for the alien, and he was a little afraid. He knew he had no reason to be, being in a military grade compound, but after what he had been through with Zim, it was getting progressively harder to do things without him. Zim walked out a few hours later, looking ashamed, but nervous casted a more prominent shadow over his features. The Director spoke with his team, but not with him. And suddenly, everyone was looking at him sadly, like they wanted to comfort him. He didn't say anything to Zim for the rest of the day, knowing full and well what he had done, but not ready to come to terms with the truth of his reality. A reality without Lex.

On day five, Dib cracked.

 

It was so simple, too. Greenwell just called him up to their office. Zim gave him a guilty gaze, and he knew something was up. He walked to his office with their, didn't ask any questions. They closed the door, and said ten words.

"Zim told me about what happened in the psych ward."

_Mother fucking son of a bitch._

Dib immediately threw up in a trashcan, again at the thought of Monroe, the thought of Lex, the thought of Emrikson. Emrikson always smelt like cigarettes and his breath was like chewing tobacco. He hadn't had any dreams after he found out, but last night he had a flash of something he never wanted to see. Lex, hanging from the ceiling, very dead.

Greenwell gently brushes his hair back with their fingers, heart soaring with guilt and pain. They were the director of the fucking _CIA_ , and they couldn't keep Dib safe. This poor boy had gone through too much. He was _fifteen_. He didn't deserve most of what has happened to him. Though Greenwell knew a lot about him, they had lost all contact with him only twice. Most the same amount of time. Both the same time of year, almost exactly to the date. They didn't think that was very much of a coincidence.

"It wasn't your fault, Dib... None of it was..." They said softly. Dib dry heaved over the trashcan, hot tears sliding down his heated cheeks. "I promise you... Monroe won't hurt you anymore. But I need to know exactly what happened to you when you were there. That's the only way I can start to help you." Slowly, Dib regained his even breath. He sat back on the ground, leaning against the wall.

"It was... horrible," He murmured, eyes closed in fear of seeing Greenwell's expression. He knew he would either find concern or amusement. If it was concern, he would doubt Greenwell's intentions. If it was amusement, his esteem would take a blow he wasn't sure if he could handle. "At first, it seemed like Monroe was nice... She didn't try anything... she gave me a tour of the place... She was almost kind.. But then I met Luh-" Dib placed a hand over his mouth, eyebrows knitting together as more tears squeezed out of his air-tight eyes. He was shaking hard, now."...Lex." He had to stop himself from throwing up again. "She was... the only sane person there... the only insane thing she ever did was believe that she was crazy." He felt the Director sit beside him and wrap an arm around him.

"Lex told me that Monroe was twisted... She tried to save me, but when I confronted Monroe... Monroe had me restrained and sedated... She injected me with a bunch of chemicals, called it dilution... She kept asking me how I felt... I was in and out of consciousness until I could form an answer that she liked... And not too long after, I was released. The second time I went, which was about a year later, I walked around with an I.V... Lex called it submission juice... She told me she overheard the others saying how they wanted to use electrotherapy on me, like they did Lex..." Dib felt Greenwell's arm tighten around his shoulders. "But she didn't... I held a conversation with her, no stuttering or hesitation, giving her every answer she wanted, and that seemed to persuade her not to... But the I.V. stayed for two more days until they released me..."

"When we went back, They told me that Lex had committed suicide... They had said she was a self-harm risk after she accidentally scratched herself when they were diluting her... But she would never... She would _never_ , you have to believe me-" He gasped, beginning to sob. Greenwell tightened their grip, pulling him in tight for a hug. Dib wailed into their shoulder, but Greenwell was relaxed.

"I do, Dib. I do."

Dib began to relax at the words. Someone believed him.

 _Someone_ believed him.

 

When Dib walked out, he was surprised to see that no one noticed his crying from the previous hour. Or, at least, no one said anything. He was grateful for it. He knew that Zim probably felt guilty or responsible for something, but Dib wasn't mad. In fact, he was quite the opposite. He was relieved that he had someone to talk to, and someone looking out for his mental health, even though he didn't have to. Zim allowed Dib to relax when it came to Greenwell - he knew, for sure, that he could trust them now. And that was all thanks to Zim.

He went looking for him, and he found the alien in the barracks, working on a broken piece of GIR's recharging pod. He looked up at Dib, quickly averting his eyes in shame. Dib pulled the piece from Zim's hands, then grabbed him from the bed and hugged him tight.

Zim was surprised at this. He had ratted out Dib by telling The Director his deepest, darkest fear, and he was... showing a human affection toward him? A part of his mind that he was ashamed of told him that perhaps The Dib no longer wants to mate The Lex, now that they knew that she was dead, and The Dib wanted him instead. Another part told him that if this were true, he would reject Dib-thing. The mighty ZIM was no second choice! But the majority of his head told both parties to shut the hell up and enjoy the kindness that the Dib was showing him.

"Thank you, Zim," Dib murmured into the crook of his neck. Dib-Human's breath was warm on Zim's neck, and it made Zim blush.

"What for?" He asked. Zim's voice rumbled through his chest, and Dib smiled a little as he felt it. He pulled Zim closer.

"For caring about me enough to tell someone that I'm hurting and need help."

_Oh, Dib-Stupid, if only you knew how much I care about you._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated! :)

It was an odd morning from the beginning.

Director Greenwell walked in very early, escorting four young people in, who looked far too confident. He assumed they were new. He got down from his bed after making it as two out of the four walked over to inhabit the bunks beside his and Zim's. It was two boys, one had tanned skin, brown eyes and black hair. It kind of reminded him of Gaz before she dyed her hair and got into video games. The older was paler than milk, with freckled on his nose and a dismissive expression. He had emerald eyes and sandy locks that he constantly had to jerk his head to the side to keep from falling in his face. Neither were older than eighteen. It suddenly occurred to him that, hat's how old Dib should be, entering the army. He sighed a little and went to put on his shirt.

"Wo-oah!" He heard someone gasp behind him. He turned, seeing one of the guys staring at him. "Dude you're fucking _ripped_!"

Was he? He hadn't really noticed.

"Yeah, and you're fucking torn, too. Look at those scars!"

No one had ever noticed those before.

Awkwardly, he put his shirt back on.

"Something crazy happened, huh?" He asked. "Something wicked must've happened, right?"

Dib just pointed at Zim, who was working on hand-held device that could translate Irken as it was spoken.

"Him," He said honestly. "He happened."

The boy's both let out a 'pssh' noise.

"That _thing_ is like half your size!"

"Yeah, _it's_ just too tiny!"

Dib saw Zim flinch a little, and he put on a determined face. Dib threw his shirt off and took Zim's hand (who followed his hand up as it was tugged), taking off the gloves to reveal the claws. He placed the hand to the center of his chest. The hand was fucking freezing, but he lined the claws to three prominent, red scars that slashed down to his stomach. Then, he lined them up to the fainter lines on his shoulder, and another on his lower and upper back. By the time he had finished, Zim's cheeks were a lovely shade of forest green, and the boys were even paler than before.

"Jesus Christ."

"Some good advice," Dib said, releasing Zim's hand and pulling his shirt on. "Never fuck with Zim."  The boys nodded meekly.

Happy with this response, Dib put his shirt back on and pulled his boots over the ends of his uniform pants. He walked to the mess hall, eating dried apple slices, cereal, yogurt and granola, and water. His appetite had increased considerably since having entered the army. Zim was sat beside him, having followed after him after his departure from the new guys. He ate ice cream and drank soda, the only thing he could eat here. He was glad they had thousands of different flavors and textures. Currently, he was eating rocky road with Cactus Cooler. The taste was tangy, almost sour, but good nonetheless.

That's when the Director showed up once more.

Everyone stood at attention, wiping their mouths. Dib and Zim had gotten the hang of this - despite being close with the Director, they knew that didn't mean that gave them special treatment. The newer people stood up a bit delayed, looking frazzled and confused.

"It's about that time," The Director said confidently. "That you get divided into squadrons." A few of the older soldiers stood taller, looking authoritative.

The Director pulled out a tablet and named each of the squadron leaders. They then began to assign people to those members, and people moved around to their respective leader.

"In Squadron Victor, lead by Saadiya Ibaara, Milano Lorenzo." A tall man walked over to a Muslim woman. Both looked intimidating and strong. "Ferran Cortéz." A short woman walked to the group. "Dennis Clay." A man joins the other three, shaking hands with Saadiya. Dib noticed people were looking incredibly upset and envious - almost as if they wanted to be on Saadiya's team. "Brian Huong." He was one of the new guys. He walked over, excited, though attempted to remain professional. "Dibble Membrana." Dib was almost surprised to hear his own name, but a sudden panic rose in his chest. What if he and Zim weren't in the same squadron? He did as he was told, however, and walked to the group. They looked proud to have him, which was an extreme change for him. Dib locked eyes with Zim, and they both understood their worries, and how badly they both wanted to be on the same team. "Zim Sera." Zim and Dib were both filled with relief, and Zim stood next to Dib.

"Zim Sera?" He asked Zim softly, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

"Not a word, Dibble."

"Touché."

"Squadron Victor, follow Saadiya to your assigned pod." Saadiya led them past the barracks to a room with four bunks. Each of them had gathered their things, and they found their bunks. Zim got a bottom bunk, setting up GIR's charging port beside it. Dib got a top bunk above Zim's. Dennis was on the bottom bunk beside Zim's putting a picture into the bars above him that held the box spring for the top bunk, where Ferran was. Milano shared a bunk with Saadiya, taking two small pills. He assumed they were for a medical condition. Saadiya was praying, so no one spoke. Brian was reading Robinson Crusoe. Dib looked at him back, opening it up quietly, and pulling out the picture of his sister and him as kids. He laid back, looking at it.

He missed his sister. They had unofficially made up, and he wanted to talk to her, but the thought of seeing Monroe, though it wasn't probable, was definitely a factor he would not - _could not_ \- ignore the possibility of. He knew she must have contacted her family at some point when he was trapped there, otherwise he Dad would have gone haywire.

His Father.

According to Gaz, his father was going insane after the military had taken him. Why was he so concerned? It wasn't like he gave a shit where he was beforehand. And if he cared _so much,_ why wasn't he marching down here to try and find him? To get him back?

Why did Dib care so much?

Professor Membrane was an asshole, and a neglectful father who never believed him about _anything_ that had _ever_ happened to him since the moment that he learned how to speak. The part of his life was over, now. He had a best friend that cared about him, and vise versa. He had friends that respected him and that he respected. He had a better parental parent than he'd ever had before. And most of all, he was _good_ at something. And he was _respected_ for it.

He was allowed to be happy. Gaz had given him permission to be happy. He just needed to remember that.

 

Zim was happy to be in this squadron. It meant he was accepted, and he was with Dib, nonetheless. He never thought he would see the day where he thought Dib's presence would be a plus. It made him... happy, to know that someone from his old life supported who he was now. Even if that person used to be his worst enemy. Dib was his... friend, now. His best friend. But then he heard those two little voices once more. One told him that Dib was more than a friend, he was a possible mate, and that Dib would treat him like a King. The other voice, which sounded oddly like the Tallests, told him that Dib always has been and always will be the biggest enemy he will ever face _ever._ Look at where he was now! The armada was coming, he had access to military grade weapons, he was friends with the Director of these _pigs_ it made more sense to just _kill them all, now!_

Zim looked up at Dib, who was in contemplation as he stared at a photograph. He was kneading his lip between his teeth, and his scythe drooped to hang before his face. His nose wriggled softly, making his glasses slip down the bridge, and those golden eyes had confusion stirring behind them delicately. His raven eyebrows were furrowed, and his cheeks were rosy. No. Dib wasn't his enemy. Dib was his... his... Zim's cheeks turned a gentle green.

_Dib was His._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated! :)

The new team was odd at first. Zim had grown used to doing things partially on his own, and mostly with Dib at his side. He had heard a few of the other fully matured humans say how he was attached to Dib “at the hip”. Hmph. How mature _are_ these adult stink-monkeys? It didn’t seem very much. He would never understand why Dib respects them so much. They haven’t done anything truly spectacular, like single-handedly win the war they were soon going to find themselves in. Zim secretly wished one of them would. Maybe that way Dib won’t be in the line of fire, and he won’t have to look the Tallests in their orbs and tell them that he was not going to betray the humans at the last second. How he wished that day would never come.

This new team he had acquired was adequate enough, he supposed. The only person who could hold a fight with him was the Dib, and that was only because the fledgling human had a stubbornness that could match his own. Oh, but Dib wasn’t a fledgling anymore. Dib had grown to look like his father greatly, but with more hair and less arrogance (though, sometimes Zim wondered if the Dib knew how fragile his human body and mind really was). He had developed into a mature, strong young human of the male sort. Due to Zim’s creeping growth, he was over one hundred years old, but when comparing his state of maturity to the Dib’s, they were about the same.

Dib had changed over the three years Zim had known him, so much so it almost alarmed the small alien. Not only in physical shape, but in mental shape. Upon his first interaction, Dib was… naive. He believed that space was just something pretty to look at, with no real idea of what savagery was truly going on. Innocence must be bliss. When Zim first told him the truth about Dib’s beloved space ideas, he will always remember the crestfallen, somber look on the human’s face. It saddened Zim to think that he had taken the boy’s innocence away in an attempt to not only harm but scar him - which caused Zim to remember why he had done it in the first place. It was because Dib was going on and on about space and aliens in a presentation, acting so full of himself, as if he had known everything. Suddenly, Zim didn’t feel so bad about it anymore. But Dib wasn’t that way anymore. Dib was kind, compassionate, generous, even to the people who didn’t deserve it. Even to the people like himself.

In addition to his new-found morals, Dib had gotten much taller. It was an instinct to any Irken that the tallest being was the most attractive, most respected, and most desired. Over the course of those same three years, Dib had sprouted up almost half a foot. Zim, who was used to being eye level with him, now stood at his chest. Speaking of, it had broadened incredibly. Dib had grown into the size of his head, his shoulders bulking and muscles toning, though Zim had seen the same effect on himself, on a much smaller scale. He was sure it was from the intensive training they went through everyday. Dib’s appetite had increased once more, though the boy normally ate like his life depended on it, Zim was now entirely positive that without the extra protein shake (gross) after both breakfast and dinner, Dib would surely become malnourished and die. He showed no sign of stopping his increasing height. It intimidated Zim greatly.

But even more, Zim was just happy to not be enemies with him. Even though Zim knew he was physically stronger than him, Dib was a great resource to have, and an even greater friend. He was almost annoyingly loyal to his human species. Much like himself and the Irkens. He only hung on because they hadn’t told him he was out of duty. Zim often wondered if he decided to come to the humans side out of spite or anger. But whenever he trained with Dib, held his hand to pull him up from the mud or over a wall, he felt those… oh, what are they called… butterflies? Yes, butterflies. Those things.

Zim lay in his bed, shaking his head softly. He needed to stop thinking about the Dib-thing. Turning onto his side, he looked at the analog clock, red against black, blinking a 2:35 am. He looked around the room.

His eyes first fell on Ferran Cortéz. She was small and Filipino, at least that’s what is PAK told him. She was turned away from him, wearing a white tank top with the beige blankets draped over her hip. Her hair, tied into a knot on the top of her hair, was black. He could see a glimmer of a diamond on her Apollo finger. She must have been married. Upon further scan, he found that she had previously been pregnant. Two at once. Must’ve been a horrible surprise. All twins on Irk were disposed of as glitches in the cloning mechanism.

Wandering to the bed below her, he found Dennis Clay. He was of an African descent. He lay on his back, facing the picture that he had stuck in the bars under the box spring. Zim poked his head out a little to see a photo of a small boy, who looked greatly like Dennis himself. Connecting the dots, Zim came to the conclusion that the small boy was Dennis’ son. The son was only four years of age. He noted there was no picture of the mother of that child, and typically humans treasure their mates (which was another reason to court the Dib). Perhaps the boy did not have a mother.

Not too far away was the leader of their squadron - Saadiya Ibaara. She wore a black underscarf and a long sleeve forest green shirt. Small pieces of dog hair found on the shirt told him that she owned a pet - a Labrador. Looking in further, he saw peace and clarity. Two things he valued in a leader. Her faith in Allah was great, and he smiled a little. It was nice to see someone with faith in the midst of all this worry.

Above her was Milano Lorenzo. He was buff and tall, but Zim was surprised to observe that Milano had strong traces of estrogen. Dib told him of these people - transgender people, Dib had said they were. Zim found Milano incredibly brave. Zim was over one hundred years old, and Milano was only 27, and at a young age Milano told his family unit who he was, open to ridicule from his family. It must have taken so much from him.

And on his own bunk bed was Brian Huong. 24 years of age - the youngest of them, ignoring Dib. Brian laid on his stomach, mouth open and drooling onto the linens of his pillow. He was dreaming of him and his mother when he was young, a memory Zim presumed. A happy one. Brian was easily the most innocent of them all. Whenever Zim looked at him, it just screamed no suffering. He was happy for him.

Finally, he looked at the boxspring above him. Dib lay barely four feet away from him, and it felt like miles. He wanted to crawl in beside him and hold him. He let out a soft sigh and went back to the clock. 2:39 am.

_Fuck._

 

It seemed like years before someone woke. It was Saadiya, when the sky was a lighter shade of blue, but the sun hadn’t risen. Zim turned away from her to give her some privacy as she prayed. When she had finished, he waited until she had put on her hijab to turn back around. She waved softly to him before going to the showers.

Zim sat up when the sun had risen further and the other began to stir. He pulled on his uniform under the covers and stood, going to the mess hall for breakfast. The other soldiers didn’t seem to bother him after the Monroe incident. He supposed this was because they valued the Dib over himself, and since he protected Dib, he was tolerated by extension. He didn’t really mind, so long as he didn’t get bothered. Walking in, Zim went to the nice people who served the food and they gave him his food - cake and soda. He thanked them softly (which was still an odd thing to do, but necessary, according to Dib) and went to the table his squadron was assigned to. Saadiya was already there, having finished her breakfast, and had a big binder open.

“What is that?” Zim inquired.

“This is all of the exercises that we can do on the base,” She explained. Zim was surprised when he noticed that she wasn’t bothered by his curiosity. “I can choose from them and put together a couple of hours of exercises for us to do as a warm up. Today it looks like, since it’s our first, I’ll do one of our hardest exercise routines.” Zim looked at her, astonished, not only because she didn’t seem to have a problem with giving orders, but that she didn’t want to ease them in.

“Why?” Saadiya looked at him, mischievous motives moving behind her eyes.

“Because I want to know just how much effort you all are willing to put toward making our team look perfect. I’m known for not caring too much about what you can or can’t do. I don’t think it matters. And it’s because of that, that I am always chosen as a leader. I put us first. Only the best of the best can be on my team.”

Zim reeled back after this, giving her space, and himself time to think. She was right. And her reputation suited her well. The real reason she was known wasn’t for her ignorance of ability, it was for her intolerance of “bullshit”. Whatever that meant. Humans had such odd sayings. After everyone came out and ate, Dib grunting out his good mornings, wearing his uniform. By the scent of strong soap, Zim knew that Dib had showered, but he still didn’t look quite awake. He never was a morning person, if their school days served as any evidence. 

“Alright,” Saadiya said, coming back with a piece of paper and standing at the end of the table. “We start out with our warm up out in the rec room, run three miles, work on obstacle courses, weights, conditioning, then we finish off with guns.” No one said a word, out of either respect or fear. Saadiya, however looked pleased at this lack of complaint. “Good. Let’s go.”

 

Zim found out what having zero tolerance for bullshit really meant, very quickly.

Warm up felt like a work out in itself. Even the older officers were red in the face and out of breath, as if they had never done anything like it before. It suddenly occurred to Zim that perhaps they hadn’t. Saadiya was the most passionate and the most strict of them all. It made him feel like he had easily climbed up the ladder of ability against these humans. However, this smugness went away as soon as he saw Dib, and concern took its place. He saw a familiar look - the same one he saw after they shot at them on the obstacle course. Dib was smiling. He wasn’t happy, no, Zim didn’t think so… Accomplished, more like it. Complete.

_ Ecstasy. _

This word injected itself into Zim’s mind, and it immediately went places that he was ashamed of. The possessiveness rose through his chest once more.  _ How dare that horrible Saadiya make Dib look like that! All bothered but completely relaxed and blissed and fulfilled! If he had it  _ his  _ way, Dib-human would have been filled some time ago- _

He felt dark green flutter over his cheeks, and he was suddenly very happy for the training he had on Irk to ignore his thoughts and follow protocol. He got up with his team and got to work on the next part of their training - the three mile run. For once, Zim was anticipating the run. Maybe it would help him get his mind off of these grotesque thoughts.

 

The running did help. A lot. He found that whenever he ran, he wasn’t obligated to speak with anyone, and focusing on one thing in his head became next to impossible.three miles was twelve laps, and Dib was set on pacing himself to continuously run through it all, but Zim just needed to get this awful energy out of him. The first few laps, he was arguing with his head about what was acceptable when he thought about the Dib. The next was about Dib’s family, that awful Professor Membrane and Dib’s scary sister Gazleen. Oh, Irk, how Professor Membrane ignited such rage within him! He didn’t care about the Dib! He didn’t care about the Gaz-thing! He cared about his own selfish self, his own stupid agenda! If only he knew he wasn’t the smartest man on the face of the Earth anymore, how much pleasure he would derive from seeing him fall apart. He knew that he used to have these same thoughts about Dib, but he felt that these ones were justified. The Professor neglected his children without remorse, despite it going against his parental instincts. Zim often wondered if Professor Membrane truly fathered those smaller humans. 

This made him think about family on Irk. 

There wasn’t any real family structure, just birth and training. But Zim still smiled at the thought of that robotic limb that gave him a 1000 volt spark into life. He thought about his smeethood, how most of it was spent in training and classrooms and barracks and warzones. How he was conditioned to enjoy being there and enjoy doing horrific things. It made him feel sick. But what suddenly rose in his mind was a faint memory - there were two other irkens, taller than all the others. They were made from the same piece of Irken  deoxyribonucleic acid , but at separate times. Purple and Red eyes flashed. It was the Tallests. The Tallests as children. He considered them his friends, they used to do everything together. They were the first to congratulate him after passing his first exams. But when the Red and Purple chosen as the Tallests, all of that child innocence seemed to vanish, and was replaced by strong arrogance and abusive tendencies. They belittled him when he tried to speak to them after their coronation. He knew then that the Tallests were not his friends, but his leaders. 

It was protocol on Irk to erase any memories of the Tallests as smeets as a sign of respect. Zim had done this without question, but less about respect, and more about safety. He knew that the Tallests would target him if they thought he remembered something. Zim might have forgotten, but they sure as hell hadn’t. He didn’t understand  _ why  _ he remembered this, though. Back then, he went through a test to make sure he didn’t have any memories of the Tallests that weren’t provided for him, and he had passed with flying colors. Maybe he was more of a defect than he thought. Maybe he was cloned with fixed programming. This made the idea of standing up to the Tallests that much anxiety inducing. He used to be friends with them - he would even go so far as to say  _ best  _ friends - and now he had to turn his back on two people that he once cared for. 

He came to the end of his laps as this final thought rang through his head, and the Dib soon after him. Zim looked to him, and Dib smiled. Zim was sure of what he had to do. In the hopes that someday the Dib would agree to being his life-mate, Zim could do just about anything.

 

When the training was finally said and done, Dib went to the showers, and Zim scrubbed himself down with soap, and wiped himself off with a towel. They went to lunch, ears still ringing from the shotguns they had tried out. Dib’s shoulder had a bruise from the knockback. As Zim ate his chips and drank his soda, Dib came over to him with his tray of food and a cup of water. He sat down beside him.

“Hey, ZIm?” He asked softly.

“Yes, Dib-Human?” 

“I was thinking… and I want to go see Gaz,” He said softly. “But… I don’t want to go alone. Not after last time…” Zim sat up straighter, gearing up to say that then perhaps they shouldn’t leave the base, when Dib gently took his hand. It was different this time about. Last time, it had been to guide his hand over scars. This time, Dib was just holding onto him. Dib’s eyes were on the ground, and his cheeks were dusted pink. “I… I can’t do this without you. I know it’s stupid, and I know I should be able to, considering that we’re in the army and all-” Zim felt Dib’s hand start to release the more he talked himself out of it. Zim, finally, molded his hand against the human’s. 

“It’s alright. I’ll go with you.” Dib went quiet and looked up at him shyly. Zim smiled back.

 

And neither released the other’s hand.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated! :)

Dib was glad that they had the rest of the day off. This time, when he left, he told Director Greenwell where he was going, and why. Greenwell didn’t take it as easy, but they seemed too distracted. When Dib asked what was going on, Greenwell only gave him a soft smile, and told him to go home. So, without question, he spun on his heel and left. Meeting Zim at the front, the anxiety was clear on his face, and Zim’s hand found his once more. Seeing him in his human “disguise” still seemed so odd to him. He prefered it off, and he was sure that Zim did as well.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “The Dib seems off-put.”

“Director Greenwell didn’t put up much of a fight when I tried to leave. I think something is going on.”

A spark of recognition twinkled in Zim’s lilac eyes, but it seemed to go over Dib’s head.

“I’m sure everything is fine, Dib-human,” He said, trying to sound confident. Dib just nodded. 

 

Both wearing their badges, they left the base. They got into a cab that Greenwell had called, and they both piled into the car and buckled up. Dib’s hand tightened against Zim’s as they left the security of the base, a place that Dib considered more familiar than his own “home” back in town. Dib was nervous, so say the very least. His heart was in his throat, and his stomach was about to make a run for it, his head pounded with fears that seemed far too incredible to be true. What if Monroe was at his home, waiting for him? What if this whole ‘letter-from-Gaz’ thing was a charade? What if his father wanted to hurt him? What if Gaz didn’t mean it? What if he was gonna get killed, or worse, what if Zim was gonna get killed? He squeezed Zim’s hand.  _ I’m afraid.  _ Zim gently squeezed back.  _ Everything is gonna be fine, Dib-human. _

Dib leaned against him, regret filling his heart where confidence was absent. He shouldn’t have left the base, he shouldn’t have assumed everything was okay, and he shouldn’t have put Zim in a situation where he may have felt like he couldn’t say no. He was shaking. Why was he so scared of his family? Of his home? The place where he was born and raised? He never wanted to be back here. In this mindset of being afraid of his own blood and not knowing why. It made him feel ungrateful. Then against, leaving his family wasn’t exactly the best move, either. Oh, God, what if they hated him? He knew what it was like to have such a strong emotion and it simmer down into something else. He was fucking  _ living _ it. Look at where he was? Basically cuddled into Zim’s side, afraid. He used to hate him. Now he would be dead (or worse) without him. 

“Hey, Dib-Stupid,” Zim hummed, with no heat or edge. “You need to relax. Nothing is gonna happen.”

_ I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again.  _ Never  _ again. _

Maybe things would be okay. He nodded against his shoulder, letting his own relax and sink down. It felt good to destress. 

_ Hopefully it’s not the last time Zim helps you destress. _

He knew this thought may be ominous, but his mind warped it into something graphic. He was a fifteen year old boy, after all. He shifted in his seat, already sore at the thought. And just to make it worse, he felt Zim’s head turn and observe, and he just  _ knew  _ he knew what was going through his head. Asshole. Cheeks heating up, he closed his eyes. 

 

Zim had no clue what the hell Dib was doing, but whatever it was, he liked it. This kind of squirm wasn’t an anxious one, but rather one of fluster. Zim couldn’t imagine why Dib would be flustered, now of all times, on their way to go see his family for the first time since they were enrolled into the military-thing, and almost directly after hearing of the death of his friend. Zim looked down to their interlocked hands, and Dib’s closed eyes, and he knew Dib was trying to throw away a thought. Those humans and their pesky intruding thoughts. He understood, now, why their attention spans were so short. They could never focus on something longer than two hours. Things just came up. That must have something to do with their need to be in the middle of every fight and understand everything about anything.

He looked back at the road, surprised to see how close they were to the edge of the city. It seemed like a longer drive the first time around. Well, that had also been after a major loss. Now he was coming back with a major gain that was attached to his left side. Suddenly, intense realization swept over Zim like a tsunami.

_ Was he the reason that Dib squirmed? _

 

Dib’s eyes opened as they entered town once more. It seemed so strange, now. He used to roam these streets as a child, he knew absolutely everything about every corner, every hiding place, every hidden secret and hidden meaning, but at the same time, he knew nothing. Or, at least, he felt nothing. He remembered so vividly running after or away from something (normally, Zim). He remembered Bloaty’s pizza, being dragged in by his baby sister to have one  _ decent  _ family dinner, despite Dib’s disdain at the comprehension of sitting down and having a conversation with the fucker who claimed to be his father. He didn’t know if he could ever forgive him.

 

When they arrive at his childhood home, it was an odd feeling. Dib, in spite of his very recent negative thoughts on coming back, wanted desperately to hold his sister again. The car parked, and he paid the driver, thanking him before getting out with Zim. They approached the door, hands separating. Dib’s hand felt cold as he knocked on the door. It took a few moments, but Dib heard small feet standing and shuffling across the carpet to open the door, and there stood Gaz, nose in her GameSlave. He smiled as their eyes met, and Gaz stepped forward to hug him. He hugged back, softly, tears pricking at his eyes.

“You need to get out, fast,” She whispered into his ear. “He’s here, and he isn’t happy-”

“DIBBLE J. MEMBRANE!” A booming voice called, and he felt himself get yanked inside by the collar of his shirt. Furied eyes met his, and a fearful shiver ran down his spine. “Where in Nikola Tesla’s name have you been?!” Dib’s mouth opened and closed in fear, unable to find the words. He felt a PAK leg encircle his waist and he was pulled back behind Zim, who looked… threatening.

“You do not touch the Dib.” The statement was simple, but powerful, and dangerous.

“I am Dib’s father, I can do what I please! Who the hell are you?!” Professor Membrane hissed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Their friend,” He said, standing in front of both Membrana children. “And I think you’ll find that you  _ can’t  _ do anything you please. Not to them. Not if I can help it.”

“Is that a threat?!”

“Does it need to be?”

“Zim, be careful-” Dib whispered, trying to hold his hand as a safety harness. He knew that if he could just grasp onto him, Zim would know it meant something important - but Zim didn’t let him hold his hand. 

“This cannot continue any longer,” Zim said firmly. “I am good friends with the Director of the CIA. I can and will report you to them if you continue to scare your children this much.”

“Oh, so that’s where you have been all this time? Really, Dib I thought you would be past such primitive things-”

“Dad, I like it there,” Dib said, shyly. The quiet and fearful tone in his voice surprised everyone, with the heat between the alien and the Professor turning into a flame. “They teach me useful things.”

“I can teach you useful things! Better things!  _ Science, _ for God’s sake!”

“Do not discourage him!” Zim said, sharply. “He is a braver man than you will ever be, you pathetic human SCUM!” 

“Oh, I’ll fucking show you brave you little-”

“Stop,” Dib said, voice barely a whimper. They both looked at him. “Dad… Professor Membrane.” Membrane looked almost shocked to hear him address him so formally. “You aren’t worthy of my time, effort, or love. It’s a simple truth that we care more about you more than you ever cared about us.” Membrane’s mouth opened to argue, but Gaz glared at Membrane, only affirming Dib’s point. “But it’s okay. Because you are my father, and you will always be my father. I will never stop caring for you in that way, and I’m tired of feeling guilty for that.” Tears welled in Dib’s eyes, and his voice wavered for a moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, and took a breath. “I am your son whether I like it or not. But you can get the Hell out of my life. And you stay away from my sister until she moves out. She is strong, and can fend for herself, but if I ever even assume that she is afraid of you again, I will make it my life’s mission to make yours a living Hell. You were a horrible father, science is boring, and I will beat your ass any fucking day of the week.” 

Membrane didn’t have anything to say after that. He simply turned around and walked away, fuming. 

Gaz hugged Dib gently, shaking softly. Dib wrapped his arms around her, finally taking on his role as her big brother. Her protector, always.

“If you need anything, ever, you come straight to me, understand?” He asked softly. “Never rely on that asshole. He’ll hold it against you. I’ll make time for you. I’ll be here at the drop of a hat, no questions asked.” She nodded against his chest and they pulled back.

“I’m… really glad that you came back, Dib…” She murmured. 

“Me too, kid.” They shared a grin and with a final hug, Dib felt Zim’s hand bump against his. He took his hand once more, and left. 

 

The didn’t go back to the base immediately. Dib was determined to make this outing not one of hate, and though he had saved his little sister (hopefully) from the ridicule of their father, his father’s actions still weighed heavy on his heart. They walked into the park and sat on a bench, and Dib began to silently sulk. Zim hated that look of worry on his face. He gently nudged Dib.

“Hey,” He said, in one of the softest tone’s Dib had ever heard. “You did really good back there.”

“Did I?” He muttered. “I feel like I just… drove the wedge further between myself and my father… and now I’ve brought my sister into it.”

“No, you protected your sister,” Zim said, voice more serious, now. “You told your father what was going to happen, and I’m sure that if the Gaz had a problem with it, she would had stepped in and let you know. You did the right thing. You did a  _ good  _ thing. I know it may not mean much, coming from me, but I’m really proud of you.” 

Dib’s cheeks became a cross-hatched pink. Zim took that as his sign to continue.

“You have grown so much since when I first met you. I know that, that had a lot to do with me, but I look at you and I don’t see that little boy that your father manipulated, or the kid that was in that evil Monroe’s clutches. I see you for who you are, a mature young human that only want to do the right thing, and you’re achieving that goal every day! You ever turned  _ me _ into someone who wants to do the right thing, someone who was trained since birth to want to hu-”

Zim was cut off when Dib suddenly launched forward and pressed his lips to Zim’s. Zim knew this was a sign of deep affection among the humans. He was frozen as his PAK desperately searched for information on how to properly respond in the way he wanted to convey - and everything came up the same. Reciprocate. And so, tentatively, Zim applied the same amount of pressure, hands finding Dib’s waist and holding it softly. When Dib pulled back, his face was redder than before, and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. 

“On Irk,” Zim said softly, choosing his words carefully. “We banned all affection practices. But if you’re clever enough, you can still find some sociology books… and one of them, my favorite one from when I was a mid-way Irken, I believe you call it pre-teen, was about how the ancients showed affections.” He leaned forward, nuzzling against Dib’s cheek and neck. Dib tilted his head, hands on Zim's shoulders. Zim grinned a little; the Dib responded well to affections. He pulled back and Dib had that look on his face again. The one of not happiness, but bliss. “Zim knew that he would get the Dib to look like that one day.” Dib raised an eyebrow.

“What look?”

“ _ That _ look!”

“Zim, I have no clue what you're talking about.”

“The look that you have on your face right now!”

“This is my normal face.”

“You have a… oh, I heard Brian use it… A resting bitch face.”

“Oh my God-” Dib began to laugh.

“What?” Zim demanded.  _ Dib had a cute laugh _ . 

“Tell me what face you're trying to describe,” Dib said, calming down. “Happy?”

“No, you have looked like that after we got shot at, and after the warm up with Saadiya…” Zim smirked a little as he remembered the word that had played in his mind. “Ecstasy.” Dib went back to bright red. 

“N-No-” He stuttered. He squirmed once more, memories of his previous thoughts from the car coming back to him. Zim chuckled. Dib eyes wandered to the eye sore in the background. Zim's old house was both dark and pastel, and it almost was too much for him to look at. “I know this is odd to ask,” He said, inspiration tingling in his mind. “But could we go to your lab? We are under as special intel first and foremost… I think we should deliver.” 

Zim thought about this for a moment. He wasn't completely sure how comfortable he was with going back to the house, all of those messages of the Tallests, everything that reminded him about how idiotic and manipulated and lied to he truly was. But Dib was right, if they didn't perform their job, they would very likely be kicked out. He nodded softly.

“Okay.” They got up, taking each others hands, and walked to the multicolored home (seriously, it looked like something straight out of Alice in Wonderland). “What exactly do you hope to find?”

“I'm think that if we track them from their last transmission, we might be able to find their location.” Zim was surprised to see just how truly genius Dib could be. They walked in, the presence of Zim’s biological signature making the gnomes stand down. He opened the door and the fake parents shorted in the background as they went down to the lab. A familiar sense of stealth filled him, and he almost felt like he had to hide from Zim, but he reminded himself that this time, he was a guest. They stepped into the fuchsia lab, and Dib made for the large computer. He tried not to remember the last time he had seen it, where Zim lay crying on the floor. He began to trace the Massive, glad to have learned Irken many years ago. He looked up at the monitor, and there it was. A single red dot against black. A wide smile spread over Dib's face.

“Humans, one; Irkens, zero.”


	11. Chapter 11

They rushed back to the military base hurriedly. Dib couldn’t believe it had worked (despite how confident he seemed when he was doing it). Zim was kissing his cheeks and neck all the way there, praising him for his genius work, and how proud he was of him. He was bright red by the time they got there. Rushing inside, they hurried up to the Director’s office. Dib barged in, Zim at his side. The Director stood at the end of a long table, with a few decorated officers who were no doubt above them. Greenwell raised an eyebrow at them.

“You know you can’t just come in here whenever you want, Dib, you know that,” They said, warningly.

“We have important information,” Dib said, urgency apparent in his tone. Greenwell nodded for him to continue. “We know where the Massive is.” Greenwell seemed unfazed. “The Massive is the group of aliens who are coming to obliterate us. We got their coordinates by going to Zim’s old house and using his computer to back-hack to their location.” Greenwell perked up at this.

“Zim, do you think you could construct a computer powerful enough to hold this data?” They asked.

“Easily,” The small Irken replied.

“Make a list of what you’ll need, we’ll get it to you.” The Director nodded and the two turned to leave. “Dib, could you stick behind, please?” Dib looked to Zim, who squeezed his hand before leaving. Dib looked back to them, standing straight and respectful. “We have more news of Alexandra Withers.” Dib felt his heart drop slightly. He wasn’t prepared for that. “We did more research, and had some of our basic hackers get into the security cameras at the mental hospital, and we found that Alexandra was in an intimate relationship with one of the Doctors. His name was Jack Harper. You never met him, he was Alexandra’s specialist. But she became pregnant - she was only one and a half months pregnant when you went back to the hospital. She gave birth six months later, to a baby boy that they rushed to the actual hospital. Alexandra was left to bleed out.” Greenwell paused to collect themself. “The boy was supposed to be given to his father, but the father was killed.”

“Monroe,” Dib whispered, remembering their conversation all those years ago. “She electrocuted him.”  _ So that was the real reason why he wasn’t put through electrotherapy. _ Greenwell nodded.

“The boy was given the name Ethan Smith, and was put into foster care. He’s turning three in a few months. He has asthma, but it’s treated with an aspirator… I have decided to pay for Alexandra’s memorial.” Dib swallowed softly, going to say something, but Greenwell raised their hand to stop him. “I’m not done. That being said about Alexandra, I took it upon myself to ask the hackers to find more evidence of abuse, neglect, or torture.” Dib had to hold back his nauseous urges. “We found so much. As good at pretending to be sane as she is, she isn’t the brightest star in the sky. We plan on using that as justification to put Monroe in prison, for torture, murder, and the endangerment of a minor on multiple accounts. You don’t need to testify, the evidence is solid, but if you want to think about being in the courthouse, you are more than welcome…”

“Thank you, Director,” Dib said, forcing his voice to be stable. They nodded softly.

“You’re dismissed.”

He turned around and left the room, hands shaking and pale in the face. Zim was stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him, out of his human costume. He walked down to him, concern growing on his face the closer that Dib got. 

Zim knew what had happened in that conference room. The Director had approached him after their training sessions to ask if investigating Lex was the right thing to do - and Zim believed it was. He didn’t really know what grief felt like, but if Dib died… He would want to know how, why, and the bastard who did it. Though, he had a hunch. But Dib looked sickly, and he was beginning to regret his decision immensely.

“Is the Dib alright?” He asked. 

“Not here,” He murmured, taking his hand. They walked to their squadron room, when the door closed. No one was in. He turned around and hugged Zim tight, crying softly into his shoulder. Zim’s arms encircled his waist and he pulled him close. 

“Dib, tell Zim what happened,” He ordered gently.

“…Lex is really gone…” He croaked. “I didn’t ever get to say goodbye, or thank her for saving me, I wasn’t even there to save her when she…”

“When she what?” He asked. “Did Director Greenwell figure out what happened to her?”

“She was… pregnant. I always wondered why they didn’t have her on medication…” He sniffled, holding back tears. “She gave birth prematurely… They left her to die…” He started to cry again. “She never even got to see her son-” Zim gently shushed him, gently running his fingers through his hair.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now… but everything will be alright…”

“That’s bullshit, Zim… My Dad hates me, My friend is dead, and there is an armada of strong, intelligent aliens coming to take you away from me, too…” Zim felt a sharp pain in his squeedily spooch. Dib cared that much about him. He cared more about him that his home, the place he was born, his own people.

“But look at everything you have…” Zim whispered. “You are respected.. You have great friends, a sister who loves you, a parental figure that isn’t a pathetic sack of scum… and you have me… And all of us can protect ourselves…” He pressed his lips to Dib’s ear. “You don’t have to carry the weight of this world on your own anymore.” Dib gave a shaky sigh, hiding his face further in Zim’s neck, just glad to be held.

 

The memorial was a few weeks later. Greenwell had it in a military cemetery, partially because that’s all that was available at such a short time, mostly because everyone was afraid to tell them no. Dib still didn’t understand why everyone so intimidated by them, they were kind and thoughtful of everyone’s emotions. His sister was driven out from the city, and training was cancelled for the day. Dib combed his hair, putting on his formal military suit, speech in his pocket. He walked out, taking Zim’s hand, who had worn the same. His sister wore a simple black dress and black flats, a black coat over her shoulders. For once, she didn’t have her GameSlave with her. She gently took his arm, and they walked out to the car that was waiting for them. It was a truck, it held his whole team. Everyone was somber. No one spoke. 

Upon arrival, they got out and followed the crowd of people who were approaching a marble headstone. Dib saw two adults, and instantly recognized them as Alexandra’s parents. Her mother looked so much like her. He averted his eyes, unable to hold the unreturned gaze. They all surrounded the memorial stone. A priest began to speak, and Dib squeezed Zim’s hand. Zim squeezed back.

“I understand there are some speeches?” The priest called out, softly. Dib waited, wanting the parents to go first.

“Alexandra was our pride and joy,” Her mother began, tears in her voice. “Monroe lied to us for years about what was happening to our baby… If we had known…” She began to cry, and her husband wrapped his arms around her. 

“If we had known what was happening, we wouldn’t have left it to a young boy to do what we should have been doing. We are so sorry we put that burden on you. We are so sorry that we are partially the reason why you had to go back and risk your safety. We are so sorry that the last thing our baby saw was that monster.” His voice was deep and plaintive. The priest looked to Dib. Dib released his sister and boyfriend. He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Alexandra Jane Withers, or Lex as I knew her, is the reason I am standing here today,” He said, already on the verge of tears. “I met her the first day I was there. She told me the truth about Monroe immediately. And though it ultimately led to Monroe’s demasking, I was glad she warned me. I knew what to expect. She didn’t try to tell me that things would get better. She just told me to get out, whatever it takes… It’s because of her that I learned how to shut up and be a little selfish, and how being that way can save my life.” He bit his lip. “It’s because of her that I am able to be here for my sister, be a good boyfriend to my partner, be a good soldier, and not fear my father. She gave me what little strength she had to save me. Getting out was because of her. Thriving was because of her. And though I was never able to save her…” He stopped speaking to wipe at the tears sliding down his cheeks. The air was nipping at the water they left behind. “…I will win this war in her name.” He closed the paper, pocketing it once more. He looked to her parents. “She never blamed you for putting her there. She loved you. She just…” He trailed off, tears springing into his eyes again. “She just knew where she was, and how minimal of getting out her situation was.” Her mother came over to him, tentatively, and bent down to hug him. He hugged back, the tears falling out. 

“Thank you for bringing her home,” She whispered to him softly. “You set her free.” They pulled away and she gave him a watery smile, wiping his tears. He smiled back, and they parted ways. The final blessing were said, Dib wrapping an arm around Gaz and kissing the top of her head, linking arms with Zim. Dib set down a bouquet of daisy. Lex never struck him as the kind of person who liked the ordinary. They walked out to the small chapel next to the cemetery, people conversing and exchanging their sorrows and apologies.

And Dib? 

Dib was angry.

Angry at Monroe.

Angry at Lex’s family.

Angry at Professor Membrane.

Angry at the Tallests.

Angry at that fucking armada.

 

Dib leaned close to Zim and murmured softly;

 

“I’m gonna win this war. And I’m gonna marry you. And I’m gonna see Gaz off to college. And I’m gonna ruin Membrane’s empire and build one of my own because I am done being someone’s puppet. I am going to win, once and for all. Victory for Dib.”


End file.
